


The Way It Ends

by little_werewolf



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_werewolf/pseuds/little_werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had never made plans, of what would happen if everything was over. What would have to be done, if the other would suddenly not be there anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Ends

They had never made plans, of what would happen if everything was over. What would have to be done, if the other would suddenly not be there anymore. Clint had never even considered of what he would do, if they were to break. Over the years so many belongings had gathered. So many memories had been made, that thinking of not being able to have them anymore was impossible.

This was worst however. Kneeling at his boyfriend’s grave, was worst. He couldn't fight his way out of this, couldn't ignore the responsibilities that suddenly weighed upon him.

The battle in New York had been a mess, and he had been still out of it when the news had travelled through the helicarrier. Clint hadn't even thought anything about it. Had ignored everything around him, concentrating instead on one only thing. On how fast they could get Loki out of the sky and wondering of how many arrows one could shoot into a god’s body.

The news of Phil’s death, when he had finally received and understood it, had hit him hard.

Clint hadn't wanted to believe it. Had screamed and cursed at everyone around him, and at the end had even punched Natasha. After that everything was more of a blur as his world had crumbled up into several small pieces. When it slowly started to clear again, he had been at the Avengers Tower, with everyone in the team ready to help him. He realised that they were mourning as well, in their own kind of way. And even if Clint wanted to protest, telling them that they didn't know Phil like had had, he couldn't. Because in one way or another, Phil had been a part of everyone’s life. Even if it had just been a few minutes.

It had taken Clint almost two whole months before he managed to enter their shared flat again. The memories of their relationship had hit him hard the moment he had entered the front door. He couldn't remember how long he then cried, just knowing that he had dragged himself to the bedroom, curling up on to the bed and grasping on to Phil's pillow. It had still been smelling of him. Faint, but it had still been there, and it had only made Clint cry harder. When he finally managed to stop crying, throat sore and head throbbing from losing so much fluid at once, he slept.

This exhausting circle continued for a while, until the memories only produced a dull ache inside of his chest.

Nonetheless, Clint wasn't able to clean out the flat. He couldn't find the strength, cursing Phil of leaving him alone and making him deal with all of this. But with every smallest object he found in the flat, he remembered a story that came along with it. The Hawkeye mug that Clint had bought as a gag gift; the coat that Phil had bought him, reminding Clint that he needed to wear more clothes than just a jumper when it snowed; or the pictures that hang of them and their friends in the office. All things he wasn't ready to let go off, scared that if he would, he would forget Phil as well and everything else that they had done together.

Clint was scared of forgetting their first kiss. That day when he had stood in front of Phil, bruised and soaked by the rain, finally starting to trust the other man. Forgetting their first date, that had started up so horribly in the stuck up restaurant and then had ended sitting in the park, eating take away pizza and drinking cheap wine out of paper bags. Of how it felt to touch Phil, to be touched in return, how those arms would wrap around him in the middle of the night with the promise of never letting go.

So Clint kept memories, just to be sure to know that it all hadn't been just a dream. That Phil had been real.

There had been a funeral, but Clint hadn't gone. It was the last step he had to take. The step that would have him admit that Phil was really gone. That he was ....

At the end it had been Natasha who had practically dragged him to the cemetery. Telling him that he owed it Phil to go. Clint tried not to listen how she explained how it would help the process of getting better. That it would give him the opportunity to talk to Phil.

Clint had laughed it off of course. Asking how he could ever talk to a dead body, buried so deep beneath the earth. After that there had been silence, until to the moment where he was now kneeling in front of Phil's grave.

"I hate you," Clint murmured hoarsely, trying to fight the sob that was threatening to escape his throat.

"You just left everything to me, you took the easy way out. That's not fair," he continued, pressing his eyes tightly close. When he opened them again, his hand reached out to touch the tombstone, fingers tracing Phil's name.

"You were not supposed to die yet. There was still so much to do. We didn't go to Disney yet. You said you would take me on every ride until they would throw us out. We were supposed to tour Europe remember? I am sure you had everything planned out already as well," he whispered, and his voice broke as the tears started to fall. "You weren't supposed to die yet," he repeated, closing his eyes once more and resting his forehead against the cold stone.

"I love you," Clint whispered after what seemed an eternity.

"I love you too," a voice suddenly murmured behind him, and Clint's head whipped around in shock. There in flesh stood no one but Phil Coulson.

For a moment Clint just stared, before he slowly moved to get up, stumbling towards the man and stopping to stand right in front of him.

"You didn't tell me what I was supposed to do," Clint choked and he didn't care if this wasn't real, because Phil looked real and if Natasha had let the other man so close, he just had to be real.

"I do have a letter all ready with instructions. It wasn't the time, not yet," Phil replied calmly, and Clint could see the small frown appear on his face. "Let me explain?" he asked tentatively, and Clint let out a small shuddering breath.

He looked around for a moment, spotting Natasha in the distance. She was watching them quietly, her whole body alert, and the tension just barely visible. She was looking over him, ready to step in if needed, knowing it would only take seconds for her to be standing down her and protect him.

Swallowing, Clint eventually looked back at the man in front of him. This time it were tears of joy that rolled down his cheeks, and he nodded as he tried to find the right words to say.

"It was your turn to pay anyway," Clint replied and reached out to wrap his arms around Phil's neck. Their lips met halfway, kissing slowly and tenderly, and Clint let out a small whimper in relief. This was his Phil, and this time he was going to make sure he wasn't going to let out of his sight that quickly again.


End file.
